


When Everything's Gone

by Kianna Belle (KiannaBelle)



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Canonical Character Death, Fix-It, Happy Ending, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-08
Updated: 2017-08-08
Packaged: 2018-12-12 21:36:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,065
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11745663
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KiannaBelle/pseuds/Kianna%20Belle
Summary: He was gone. Phil was gone, and Clint didn't know how to carry on. Left with just his memories and an empty home, what is a lonely archer to do?





	When Everything's Gone

Clint really hated himself sometimes. Okay, when he was being truthful, it was most of the time. More honestly, he just wanted to fill that void.

Sometimes everything sort of faded out, and he was back in that devastating moment. The moment his life fell apart. That moment, he lost everything.

Sure, he’d been riding pretty high on stopping an alien invasion. He was even pretty excited about the possibility of working with all these amazing people again. More than anything, though, Clint had been so damn proud that he had been able to help make  _HIS_  dream come true. 

Phil, against all odds, and despite all the evil he had seen in the world, still believed in heroes. Clint was so glad he had been able to make that belief worth it. All he had been thinking about was how happy Phil must be at that moment. He was probably already working to organize clean-up or en-route to take Loki in to custody. Clint’s mind was half on the arrow he had aimed at the psychopath’s eye, but the other half was on the helicarrier, already prepping for the debriefing he knew was to come.

Clint’s earpiece had gotten lost when he’d had to jump off that building, so he simply nodded and followed her lead when Natasha had briefly touched her own earpiece, then instructed that they were to take Loki in.

The return to the helicarrier had been a blur of colours from the many heroes’ uniforms, and a blur of noise from New York trying to get itself back together. It wasn’t until he had been ushered to the med deck instead of a debriefing room that he noticed anything amiss. Normally, debriefing came first when nothing was broken or openly bleeding, and he hadn’t mentioned to anyone that he suspected he had cracked some ribs. 

So, he should have been in a debriefing room with Phil, not sitting on a sterilized bed, yet again, waiting for one of the S.H.E.I.L.D. doctors to come take a look at him. It wasn’t until Natasha came in, without a doctor mind you, and locked the door behind her, that he had known something was horribly wrong. 

Sitting up straighter despite his protesting ribs, he had eyed her warily, but unwilling to ask, had stayed silent. Natasha was not cruel, but neither did she believe in prolonging the inevitable, so Clint could not hold her method of delivery over her, despite the urge to blame someone in that moment. He still remembered the feel of her hand on his arm; it had been gentle, but tight enough that he couldn’t have left.

She had looked him in the eye, taken one shaky breathe, and on the exhale, had shattered his world with two unforgiving words.

“He died.”

In that moment, everything had seemed to freeze. The room got fuzzy, his hearing softened to a dull buzz, and his mind had gone terrifyingly blank. He couldn’t speak, he couldn’t think, hell, he couldn’t breathe, and it had nothing to do with his ribs. He came back to himself moments later, and didn’t scream, didn’t cry, simply nodded at Natasha in thanks, and quietly asked her to go find a doctor to come look at his ribs. It was in that moment, that he had felt the void starting.

\--- 

“Yo, Hawkass! Clint, man, you still with us?”

Clint’s head snapped up, a glare in place as he looked at Tony.

“You have no right to say anything! I know the reputation you used to hold, and you didn’t have half my reasons, so fuck off!”

Tony just folded his arms over his chest and glared right back.

“How many?”

“What?”

“How many, Clint? This month, how many people have you brought home?”

Clint crossed his arms defensively and muttered under his breath.

“It’s not home.”

“Excuse me?”

“I said, ‘It’s not home’, alright?!”

Clint saw the hurt flash in Tony’s eyes, before quickly being covered by anger, but he refused to take it back.

“No, it’s not alright! Dammit Barton, do you even remember any of their names?!”

“The hell does it matter? I keep ‘em away from your workshop, usually they let themselves out, and no one has stolen anything!”

Tony uncrossed his arms and a look of genuine confusion passed over his face, only to shift into one of frustration.

“You think I’m asking because I’m worried they’ll steal something?”

Clint stopped glaring so hard, a wary expression appearing on his face.

“Isn’t it?”

“Of course not!! I have enough money to replace anything they would take, and, as you so gracefully brought up my sleeping around, don’t you think I woulda stopped if theft was a concern?”

“Then I ask again: the hell does it matter who I bring back here?”

Tony jumped back to anger, crossing the room and getting right up in Clint’s face.

“Because,  _you_ matter! Fuck Clint, I don’t know what the hell is going on with you, but it matters because me and the rest of the team don’t want to see something happen to you!”

Clint shook his head and uncrossed his arms, a sympathetic look crossing his face.

“Tony, I appreciate the concern, but nothing worse can happen to me than what already has.”

That said, Clint turned and left.

\--- 

That night saw Clint at another shady bar, this one closer to Avengers tower than he was strictly comfortable with. He’d thought about not going out tonight. He really didn’t want to upset Tony or the others any more than they already were. Sitting in his room though, it had all become too much. He’d needed to get out, this wasn’t his home; it never could be.

So here he sits, sipping beer that has long gone warm, letting his eyes scan the bar, and trying to run from his memories.

Finishing his beer Clint moves to the bar to order another. As he waits for it his mind flashes back to the memory of strong arms, striking blue eyes, and a sweet goodnight kiss. Not realising he’d closed them, he opens his eyes and immediately spots the blonde across the bar watching him with a sweet smile.

Taking a swig of his new beer he motions the blonde over. They chat a few minutes and Clint doesn’t back away when the guy leans in for a kiss. Clint goes along when he’s invited back to the guy’s place, and loses himself to sensation, willing the memories of a different touch out of his mind.

They finish and the blonde simply rolls over and goes to sleep. Clint closes his eyes, relaxes his muscles, and tries to doze. As he falls into a restless sleep his mind flashes to a soft smile, laughing eyes, and the gentle press of lips against his. A tear rolls down his face as his thoughts shift into dreams.

\--- 

The next morning Clint is up before the sun, and moves to find his jeans and top. He glances at the blonde, considering waking him up to say goodbye, but realizes he can’t remember the guy’s name. His conversation with Tony the day before crosses his mind, and he wonders if he should feel guilty. He can’t bring himself to feel anything other than that ever-aching void.

Clothes finally on, Clint quickly leaves the apartment and ventures to the roof instead of heading down to the street just yet. He’s met by a light mist in the air, a warning that the dark clouds overhead are close to spilling open. Sitting on the roof, legs hanging carelessly over the edge, he lets his mind wander as he normally doesn’t.

He remembers missions, both good and bad. He remembers fights and kisses. He remembers hospital visits and promises. Clint absentmindedly runs his right hand over his chest, against the place his ring normally rested. The rain starts slowly pouring, picking up speed quickly in the moments while Clint is lost to memories.

Carefully he makes his way down the fire escape. Once he hits the ground he makes his feet keep moving, not focusing on where he is heading, but not ready to return to the tower.

Clint wanders the streets as the rain increases further, and thinks about what Phil would say. He’d probably be reprimanding Clint for not taking care of himself, he would be telling Clint to come in out of the rain. Clint imagines it so clearly he can practically hear the voice in his ear. Rain dripping from his hair to spill into his eyes, he forces back tears and whispers in a heart-breaking tone 

“But you’re not here anymore…”

Getting lost in his thoughts Clint doesn’t stop the motion of his feet until he realises he’s walked himself inside a building. He feels his stomach bottom out, like being on a roller coaster, as he looks around. He’s let himself in to a house. 

The walls are the same colour he remembers, that floorboard by the couch still creaks as he walks over it. This is the first time since  _th_ _at_  day on the helicarrier that he has been back to the house, that is legally half his. He couldn’t make himself come back after everything.

Now, with his mind lost in memories, it would seem that his body decided it was time to come home.

He hadn’t returned on purpose. He couldn’t be here; surrounded by solid mementos of their life together, and still hold on to the idea that he no longer had a home. Even without Phil here, this place was still their home. 

They had made it their home.

Moving slowly through the house Clint can feel a chill settling into his bones from the rain. He moves towards the bathroom, doing his best to avoid looking at any of the pictures along the walls. He makes it to the bathroom and manages to shower quickly before encountering a problem. He hadn’t brought fresh clothes with him. He knows there are clean clothes still in the closet and dressers in the bedroom across the hall;  _t_ _heir_  bedroom.

Getting out of the shower he pulls a towel from the small cupboard they’d built together and moves to stand in the open doorway to their room.

He feels the tell-tale pressure behind his eyes but refuses to let the tears fall. He moves quickly through the room, grabbing a pair of sweat pants and putting on a sweater from the closet that he was pretty sure didn’t belong to him. As he’s about to dart out of the room his eyes fall to the broken piece of the wall right by the doorway that they had never gotten around to fixing. It was no more than three inches all around, but it’s that tiny hole in the wall that finally makes Clint snap. 

  With a broken sob and a whimper of “Phil…” he falls onto their bed. The sobs wrack his body, the tears stain the blankets around him and he pulls Phil’s sweater tighter around his body. The sobs eventually taper off to small sniffles as his worn body relaxes and his exhausted mind pulls him into dreams borne from memories.

~~~

He couldn’t remember what had started it, but he did his best to bring up how he had been feeling about everything. Phil and him didn’t usually fight; not seriously. Lately though, Phil had been acting strange. His aloof behaviour around work was normal, expected even. At home however, he let his guard down. They’d been together for nearly three years now, and even when he’d tip-toed around asking Clint to look at houses together, he hadn’t acted so secretive about it. 

Now, Clint understood there were things Phil simply could not tell him. He got that; but Phil also understood Clint’s curious nature. He always made sure to drop words like ‘classified’ or ‘top-secret’, when it was something Clint genuinely couldn’t know. All he would say lately though was ‘I can’t tell you,’ or ‘I’ll let you know… When the time is right.’ 

So yeah, Clint couldn’t remember what exactly had set him off tonight, but as he shouted at Phil, he certainly knew how it had reached this point.

Getting more and more worked up and feeling more hurt as Phil kept deflecting about why he was being so secretive lately, Clint spun away from him and in frustration swung his leg as hard as he could. He hadn’t realised he was so close to the door; so instead of meeting open air or a misplaced shoe as intended, he watched as plaster and drywall cracked under his sneakered foot.

Carefully pulling his foot from the wall Clint stands, staring at the wall, his shoulders hunching higher and higher. The tears start silently as he watches some loose plaster fall to the floor. They stay unmoving in the awkward silence for only a second before Phil is rushing around to stand in front of Clint.

“Are you okay? These walls are pretty solid; did you break your toe? Where does it hurt?”

As he asks, Phil’s hands hover in the air above Clint’s arms. Ducking his head slightly Phil tries to catch Clint’s eye.

In the face of such genuine concern from Phil, Clint gives voice to his biggest fear, and the reason for his tears, though it is barely above a whisper.

“Don’t leave…”

Phil freezes, hands still just over Clint’s arms, not quite touching him.

“What?”

Clint clenches his jaw to keep in any noises and tries to will back the tears, which just pour harder in defiance.

Phil’s hands settle as warm weights against Clint’s biceps, and begin gently rubbing them. He steps closer and manages to catches Clint’s eyes with his.

“Clint, what did you say?”

Caught in that striking gaze, Clint finds himself talking once more, the words simply falling from his lips unbidden.

“Please don’t leave me. I’m sorry, whatever I did, I’m so sorry. Or whatever I didn’t do, or said… I can do better, I promise! I love you Phil, please don’t leave…”

Clint’s voice cracks at the end of his declaration, his tears now falling too hard for him to speak through.

“Oh Clint…”

Phil moves his hands from Clint’s arms to wrap them around the archer. Clint leans into the embrace, wrapping his arms around Phil’s waist and burying his face in Phil’s shoulder.

They stand there for a bit, simply soaking in and giving comfort. Phil then eases them on to the bed, Clint’s weeping dying down to sniffles. They lay there wrapped in each other for what feels like hours before Phil moves slowly out of Clint’s hold and climbs gracefully off the bed.

Clint makes a keening noise in the back of his throat as Phil walks out of the room without a word. He buries his face in Phil’s pillow, doing his best to hold in his heartbreak.

There’s a sudden pressure on his shoulder and the bed dips beside him. 

“Fool archer.” Phil says affectionately. 

“I would,  _could_ , never leave. I love you too much.”

Clint hears him take a deep breath, but can’t make himself look up from the pillow yet.

“I’m sorry for the secrets.”

Clint feels Phil shift and then fall still, his one hand remaining on Clint’s shoulder.

As Phil doesn’t say anything else the silence begins to stretch, and he remains motionless as well as silent. Clint raises his eyes warily from the pillow, now feeling slightly embarrassed about his outburst. As he does he sees why Phil has gone so still. 

Sitting in the hand not on Clint’s shoulder, is a little box. It’s not black, but a brown colour. It doesn’t have velvet, but instead some cloth material. Clint doesn’t have eyes for any of that though. All of his focus is on the sturdy-looking silver band resting in the box. It is simple, but for the braided pattern running through the centre around the ring.

Clint can do nothing but stare for long minutes before it dawns on him that he should say something.

All that comes out is a weak “Phil?”

He takes his eyes off the ring and moves them up to look at Phil instead.

A patient smile appears on Phil’s face and his hand moves from Clint’s shoulder to gently run through Clint’s hair.

“I want you to be my husband Clint. I was trying to wait for the perfect moment to ask. Our anniversary is coming up, so I figured that would a good time. I’m so sorry I worried you.”

A small smile softens Clint’s tear-streaked face.

“S’alright.”

“So…”

“So?”

Phil chuckles at Clint’s confused expression and leans closer.

“Will you be my husband, Clint Barton?”

Clint’s eyes fly back to the ring and a huge grin lights up his face, wiping out any lingering fear shown there.

He stays silent a minute before his grin takes on a cheeky edge.

“Aren’t you supposed to be on one knee?”

Phil graces him with a look that is a mix between incredulous and indulgent.

“You want me to get down on one knee?”

Clint laughs at the look and the tone of his voice.

“No. The reaction was priceless though.”

Clint takes a moment to simply enjoy the affronted look on Phil’s face, then sits up and leans onto Phil’s side.

“Yes.”

Clint breathes the word into Phil’s ear then pulls back just far enough to lay his lips over Phil’s.

The room and sensations fade from his mind and Clint shifts in his sleep as the next dream seeps from his subconscious.

Clint slips the small band onto Phil’s finger, and then bows his head so that Phil can clasp the chain with Clint’s ring behind Clint’s neck. 

They recite their vows and finally the priest says “You may now kiss your husband.”

A peaceful smile graces Phil’s face, and is mirrored on Clint’s as they lean in to seal their promise of forever.

The scene fades in a swirl of colour and happiness, to be replaced with yet another memory. This one from later that evening at a small private dinner he and Phil had shared with a few close friends.

“So, Clint…”

Clint looks over at Natasha and raises a questioning eyebrow.

“I’m just wondering; why are you wearing your ring on a chain, rather than on your finger like Phil?”

Clint opens his mouth to respond but is cut off as Phil leans into his shoulder, grabbing Clint’s right hand in his own left, clearly displaying the new ring there.

“I didn’t want to risk the band interfering with his shooting. His left is his string arm, and I don’t want him to be in danger simply because he is openly showing his devotion to me. We discussed it, and decided that a chain was the best option.”

Natasha gives them a sweet smile, nods in understanding and turns to strike up a conversation with Fury.

The dream fades once again, leaving only soft darkness this time.

Slowly another scene forms, a more serious undertone returning with this one.

“Are you sure you want me to hold on to this? We can just leave it at home you know.”

“Phil, I just don’t want it near that damned glowing box anymore. Something about it gives me a bad feeling. I want to be able to wear it as soon as I’m off duty, so it’s easier if you keep it.”

Phil gives Clint a gentle smile and slides the chain around his own neck.

“I’ll keep it safe, I promise.”

Clint flashes Phil a huge smile, leaning in to kiss him. As he does, Phil’s arms coming up to wrap around Clint’s waist.

“I know you will.” Clint lets out a sigh and moves to step out of Phil’s embrace.

“We’ve got to get in to work or Fury will have my ass. I’ll be back to you, and my ring, tonight. I love you”

Phil kisses him hard, releasing him but not stepping back.

“Be safe. I love you so much.”

They lean in for another quick kiss and Clint is brought suddenly awake by the sound of his cell phone ringing.

He sits up slowly, wiping the dried tears off his face and trying to get his bearings.

Looking around Clint tries to spot his still ringing phone. He moves off the bed, fists still clutched in the sweater.

Listening, he moves towards the hall where the ringing is coming from. Out of the bedroom he realises the phone is still with his clothes from the previous day, in the bathroom. The ringing has stopped by the time Clint’s reached his clothes. When he manages to find his phone it starts ringing again before he can check his missed calls. The caller i.d. identifies it as Natasha, and it dawns on Clint that he’s been gone two days without a word.

“Hey Nat, I’m fine. Sorry about…”

“He lied.”

Clint stops talking and tries to understand what she means. Nat doesn’t cut off apologies for worrying her, instead, she usually makes him grovel, or at least owe her a favour.

“What? Who?”

There is a sigh on the other end before she continues softly.

“I never saw him, Clint. I was avoiding the Hulk at the time. Fury gave me the news afterwards.”

It takes a moment for Clint to process what she’s saying, and when it clicks, he stops moving and has to brace himself on the bathroom sink.

“Nat… Are you saying…”

Clint can’t even finish the sentence, the end getting choked off.

“Yes Clint. Phil is-“

Clint never hears the end of her sentence. The phone falls from his hands as tears start falling again. 

It feels like the pieces inside of him that have been broken since Loki, are rapidly rebuilding themselves in all the right ways.

Giving himself a little grin in the mirror, Clint lets himself feel. It is the most painful, thrilling, happy thing he has ever felt. His eyes close and he simply lets himself float, lost in the sensations.

~~~

Clint comes back to himself once again, arms deep in soapy water, tears drying on his face, breathing evening out. Taking a steadying breath he grabs the cloth he'd let fall and continues washing up the plates. As lost in thought as he is, he doesn't jump when hands settle on his waist.

Arms slide along his ribs and the hands move to rest on top of each other on the front of his ribs. A soft pressure appears on his back, between his shoulder blades and he can hear a smooth sigh.

"What's wrong love?"

A smile finds its way onto his face, chasing away the last of the memories.

"Just remembering..."

He hears an understanding hum and one of the hands on his chest rubs soothing circles. He finishes the last dish and pulls the plug so the sink can drain.

One of the arms leaves his side and comes back holding a towel.

"Dry up and we can go find something else to remember."

He chuckles as he takes the towel. 

"That doesn't imply what I want it to, does it?"

He feels the vibration against his back and hears the quiet laugh.

"On team movie night? Not a chance. Steve would give us his disappointed look, and Natasha would kill us for making her socialise alone."

He sighs, smiles wider, and finally turns in the embrace. He reaches out and uses the towel to pull the other man even closer.

"Good point. I guess we shouldn't waste any time then, huh?"

The other man smirks, leaning in until their noses brush against each other.

"We definitely should not."

They move at the same time, their lips slotting together as they share a sweet and passionate kiss.

"I swear if you two make me watch another movie Tony thinks in funny, you don't want to know what I will do to you."

Clint pulls back and rests his forehead against Phil's.

"'Tasha, I love you, but you need better timing."

Natasha smiles and walks out the door, calling behind her.

“I have great timing. If I'd waited another minute, neither of you would be coming to movie night!"'

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this shortly after Avengers came out, before Agents of S.H.E.I.L.D., before pretty much anything else came out. It's taken me a while to post it, but I just rediscovered it and was ready to share it. 
> 
> Also, I apologize if the rhythm of the story seems off, I wrote the end first, then assorted parts, and instead of writing it beginning to end.
> 
> Let me know what you think! Drop me a line if you notice any spelling or grammar errors, I had trouble connecting with me beta so I just posted the original work.


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